


Traitors, Failures and Moon-slayers

by Themanofmanyhats



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Humor, haven't heard that name in awhile, humor?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themanofmanyhats/pseuds/Themanofmanyhats
Summary: In which Zhao isn’t such a hard-headed, suicidal lout, and takes Zuko’s hand at the North Pole.





	Traitors, Failures and Moon-slayers

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote something that’s not totally depressing??? In terms of rarity, this is somewhere between blue moon and solar eclipse.

Day 1

Oh, how the spirits are cruel! What woeful life they’ve given me! To have my master plan destroyed by the _Avatar_ , and an angry spirit, no less; it is hardly fair. I was already toasting with victory when uncalled for, insurmountable fate slapped the glass from my hand.

Firelord Ozai, forgive me. I am nothing but your loyal servant, and these unforeseeable obstacles make me seem less. It was with the most reluctant hand that I joined ship with these _traitors_ , but in your infinite wisdom, I know you will see that there was no other choice. To redeem myself and lay waste to the enemies of the Fire Nation as they deserve, I must be alive and not rotting in a Water Tribe cell.

Woe to the Fire Nation on this day. Woe to Zhao, the Moon-slayer, who floats on these cursed seas, towards the rising sun.

...

Zuko looked over Zhao’s shoulder to the notebook in his hands. “Wow, you’re an even bigger drama queen than I am.”

Zhao slammed the book shut and raged. “You insolent, spirit-damned brat!”

“Spirit-damned?” The prince snorted. “You’re the one who would’ve been spirit-damned at the bottom of the ocean if it wasn't for me!”

They both stood, probably ready to Agni-Kai-it right there on the raft (which was really just a few planks of wood with an old shirt as a sail) when Iroh, not wanting to be on a few planks of wood with an old shirt as a sail _on fire,_ pulled them apart.

“We are on a small boat. Do not waste space on rivalries.”

“Uncle, enough with the proverbs!”

“It is not a proverb!”

“Gah!” Zhao roared. “How am I stuck on this… this floating piece of garbage with you lunatics!”

“Lunatics?” Iroh muttered. “I know I get a bit unruly when I go without dinner, but I wouldn’t call myself a lunatic...”

The admiral, though he wasn’t much of an admiral at the moment, writhed. “I knew you were a spineless, crazy old man, but I never knew you were a traitor till what happened at that oasis. And I’m stuck here on this raft with you. And your ash-brained, failure of a nephew, as well!”

Zuko was about ready to gift Zhao back to the ocean spirit by now, but Iroh laid a hand on his chest.

“Enough. We are all tired after a long day. Men need their rest.”

The three firebenders dispersed, as much they could on that piece of driftwood.

Zhao muttered to himself as he sat on his side, sulking. “Traitors and failures. I’m stuck on this boat with traitors and failures.”

The prince laughed, for what reason, Zhao did not know, but the sound sank in his ears and tormented him worse than even the sight of the white moon in the night sky.

...

Day 5

These traitors are unbearable. They act as if they’d done nothing wrong, and they look at me out of the corners of their eyes as if _I_ were the monster. As if _I_ were going to stab a knife in their backs. I don’t even have a knife.

The _prince_ does, yes he does, and how he hopes to use it. They’re already weakening me, yes, they’re always giving me the smallest portion of the rations. How is it that I am always unsatisfied after and they never complain? They must be having the larger share, concocting a plan against me, starving me till I will have no fire to fight back. I must not let them win. I am Zhao, the Moon-slayer, and I will not be defeated!

...

Zhao would have gone on and on about imagined ways the two royals were concocting to weaken him, or how he, Zhao, the unquenchable fire, would never fall to such lowly traitors, but at that moment something else caught his attention.

“Look! A ship. Oh sweet steel, you beautiful, coal spitting monstrosity!” Zhao lifted his arms out as if he wanted to give the distant grey smudge a hug.

He stumbled to the side when Zuko adjusted the sail, setting their course away from the ship.

“What are you doing! Take me to the ship!” Zhao said with more desperation than he would’ve liked to admit. The days at sea had not been kind to our poor, tender-footed Zhao, and he was slowly unravelling, like a loose string being pulled from a shirt hem. Except, he did it rather quickly, and quite comically, if you asked Zuko.  

“Do you plan on taking me hostage abroad this piece of garbage!” He spit out. “Steer us to the ship this instant!”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “You really think it'd be that easy? That they’d welcome you on board?”

“What are you talking about, traitor?” He didn’t expect anything less than celebration and wild cheering.

“That wasn’t exactly a stunning victory at the North Pole, you know? I might even call it… dishonorable defeat.” The prince laughed. He quite enjoyed seeing Zhao crumble between his fingers. “You might be on a boat of traitors and failures, Zhao, but you’re one of us as well.”

...

Day 18?

There is no more hope. I float, and float, and will never get away from the whirlpool of failure I have been caught in.

I cast my rod out too far, reached too high for the stars, and now I fall. Great hero’s face great calamities, I know, and the one I have befallen drops me in the ranks of the greatest. The tale of Zhao is nothing but woe, woe deeper than the depths of this damned, wretched ocean.

…

Zhao sat cross-legged, shoulders slumped, a scraggly beard on his face, completely despondent as he took deep, dramatic sighs every time a bit of water splashed on his lap; the picture of man defeated.

Iroh whispered to his nephew. “I worry about him. One day he’ll fall off the side, and I don’t think he’d have the will to swim up again.”

“I was thinking of pushing him off too.”

“Zuko! That’s not what I meant.” Iroh laid a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Do not be so hard on him. Zhao has done many wrongs, but so have I, and so have you. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Zuko squinted. “Do you not remember when he tried to kill me? There were multiple occasions.”

Iroh sighed. “It has been a long journey, and you are letting bitterness cloud your thoughts. Think Zuko, think why you saved him in the first place.”

“I did it for myself. So I didn’t have to walk around knowing I didn’t try to save him.”

“And what are you doing now? Leaving him like this is the same as leaving him dead.”

“I’m not a saint, Uncle. How do you expect me to help him?”

“You don’t need to be a saint to help others. People rarely need miracles, just a little helping hand.”

“Like he’d accept my hand.” Zuko muttered, turning away.

“He did once.” Iroh reminded him, but Zuko was not swayed. “If nothing else, don’t push him off the edge, alright nephew?”

“That’s a tall order.” The prince said as he laid down for a nap. “But alright. For you, Uncle.”

...

When they finally reached shore after three weeks at sea, against all luck, circumstance and logic, Zhao was anything but a happy camper. He sank into the sand and looked ready to take root and mulch there.Iroh jabbed an elbow into his nephew’s side.

“What?” Zuko snapped

“Talk to him.”

There were about a hundred other things he’d rather do than console _Zhao,_ like eat a spider-rat, or play tag with Azula. He’d rather do none of them, really, but Uncle kept prodding him with his elbow till, with a deep sigh, Zuko walked over and kneeled next to the broken pile of man that was Zhao.

“Look, Zhao, it’s a big world out there.” Zuko started, feeling like that spider-rat was already in his throat.  “You’re not bound to anyone anymore, not my father, not the Fire Nation. Most people think you’re dead. You’re not like me, you don’t have a destiny to chase or a tragic hero arc you have to follow; you’re free. Start anew. You could be… Zhao the master cook, or Zhao the puppeteer, or Zhao the…”

“...World renowned fiction writer?” The ex-admiral muttered.

“Zhao the world renowned fiction writer.” Zuko repeated, fully swallowing that spider-rat.

A dreamy sort of look clouded Zhao’s face. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel with all this war nonsense and - and take a little me time.”

Iroh gave him a pat on the back. “The world is there for the taking. In the symbolic sense. Don’t try the literal sense again, if you’d mind. Maybe one day you can return to the North. Perhaps you will learn to love the Northern Tribe, like I with Ba Sing Se. Ah, besieging a city brings out the best of a place.”

“The world is out there…” Zhao mumbled as he started walking away, eyes hypnotized, clutching his little notebook to his chest.

Zuko stared as he disappeared into the treeline. “That’s it? He’s just gone?”

“Side characters tend to do that.” Iroh said.

“Well, I hope that’s the last we’ll be seeing of him.”

“I think I might miss him. He makes me grateful that I’m around for _your_ teenage years, and not his.”

“Haha. Hilarious, Uncle.”

...

It’s not until years later that Firelord Zuko received a book with his usually letter from Uncle in Ba Sing Se.

_The invention of the printing press has really been a gift._ The letter read. _This novel has gotten quite popular here in the Earth Kingdom. Action, adventure, tragedy - it really has it all. The Water Tribe finds it in bad taste, though. I cannot imagine why._

Zuko turned the book in his hands, it’s cover a nighttime battle cast in unnatural, but familiar, red light.

_The Moon-slayer._ The title read. _A tragic hero’s tale._


End file.
